Wednesday, March 18, 2015

Now that I spend my days writing about Serious Art World Things™ instead of just the goofiest pop culture run-off, I try hard (really hard, dear Reader) not to let the trending topics get to me. But in this case, upon ill-advisedly taking a gander at the latest from Meghan Trainor (of "All About that Bass" fame), I couldn't help myself. I mean, what could anyone possibly expect from a song called "Dear Future Husband"? And still, my fingers were typing before my eyes had completed their 720˚ roll. Because the bright colors, saccharine melody, self-censoring coyness, & highly Internet-savvy use of "FAIL" all point toward the fact that this video is being marketed to children, & the absolute damn last thing developing brains need to hear (besides, say, a slim blonde woman telling you that boys like your ample booty) is any of this retrograde gobbledygook.

So without further ado, here is a (surely incomplete) list of all the laughable, worrisome, & ultimately just exhausting assumptions presented in Meghan Trainor's "Dear Future Husband" video. Because really, wouldn't you think we'd be done with these by now?

Marriage is a given &/or a reasonable metric by which you should scan all romantic prospects

Proper suitors should stand, stone-facedly, outside the homes of their intended

“Plenty of Fish” is a site that still exists & is worth your time

Cactus-shaped topiary is in any way acceptable

Also, there are two children briefly pictured on Meghan Trainor’s lawn having a tea party—are these her children? Her former time-warped self? Are the tiny children being forced into a tiny child marriage? WHAT IS HAPPENING?

In fact the only thing this video gets even remotely right is that, yes, it does vastly improve one’s life to have a bowtie-sporting doowop quartet following one around at all times. Oh, also, blue PVC skirts should probably be a thing again.

Meanwhile, I will be trying to counteract this song's hatefulness by recutting it to the castration scene from Hard Candy. Until next time.

Today's Headphone Fodder:

Bus Passes and Happy Meals—Lizzo.

Because Lizzo is all of the things Meghan Trainor would like to think she is—repping"bass" in kooky technicolor style, unapologetically femme & exceedingly badass. Rather than flounce around in premarital suds, Lizzo gives the institution some side-eye, spitting "like a mistake on your wedding cake, minuscule to me, I'm a big deal to you." Also, she name-checks Cogsworth—so, y'know, instant victory.

My Name is:

Jukebox graduate. Post-collegiate. Recovering anemophobic, fresh off the boat with a dance belt & a tube of chapstick. An alligator, a mama-papa comin' for you. Unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death—or, you know, between old West Wing episodes & showertime Ramones renditions. Turn-ons: Poe stories, sparkly things; turn-offs: self-proclaimed audiophiles, Twitter. Lifelong ambition: to write a book for the 33 1/3 Series—&/or marry Eddie Izzard.
In someone else's words: "I am a confused musician who got sidetracked into this goddamn Word business for so long that I never got back to music—except maybe when I find myself oddly alone in a quiet room with only a typewriter to strum on and a yen to write a song. Who knows why? Maybe I just feel like singing—so I type. These quick electric keys are my Instrument, my harp, my RCA glass-tube microphone, and my fine soprano saxophone all at once. That is my music, for good or ill, and on some nights it will make me feel like a god."